Holding Up The Sky - Book I - Thuban
by M. Wheels
Summary: Set after Literary Giants. Back on Earth and now out of the hospital, McQueen and Kylen must now get down to the real work of rehabilitation and of truly"Coming Home."
1. Default Chapter

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HOLDING UP THE SKY

I - Thuban 

(One)

28, December, 2064

Ridge Farm, South Barre, MA

USA

Emrys burst into the kitchen, stamping his feet and shaking the snow off of his hat.

"They're up there again, Kylen. Only this time it's a different kind."

"Cool," Allston cried and made for the door. "Dad says that they going to Fort Devons. They are building it up." He grabbed the binoculars and a coat and ran outside to look into the sky. He kicked up puffs of snow as he blasted across the yard toward the open space in front of the barn.

Yesterday the Celina family had seen an ISSCV fly over the farm - once in the morning at high altitude and once in the evening, much lower, but not so low as to scare the livestock. The cattle weren't out in the pastures at this time of year, but kept in barns and paddocks. The craft had circled the farm on both occasions. Bridee and Allston had been excited by the development; Emrys was pensive, Ewan and Frank thought it had something to do with Fort Devons and mapping more approach routes. Kylen had less than a month before she had to report to D.C. to begin her training. The appearance of the aircraft filled her with conflicting fears and emotions._ "Just who is surveilling my family's home and why? Is it the Corps checking me out? Is it the Spooks? Is Aerotech involved?" _

"Go look. Quick. Go," Emrys ordered as he pushed Kylen toward the door. "I'll stay here and listen for the phone."

Kylen grabbed a coat and followed her younger brother out into the yard. Out to the west she could see the aircraft. She had seen planes like it before, on the ground at Scobee during her training, but she had never bothered to learn its name. Such things hadn't interested her at the time. The craft had no engines at the rear, but there were jets and thrusters on the body of the craft, which looked to Kylen, like a chubby dolphin - short nosed. It was larger than a Hammerhead — large enough for a three-man crew - and it certainly was not as graceful or sleek as the SA-43 — nowhere near as sexy and undoubtedly slower.

The aircraft was circling the area - each pass coming a bit lower. "U-S-M-C," Allston spelled out as he handed the binocs over to his sister. "They better not come any lower. They better stay away from the paddock. If they scare the cows Dad and Ewan will go crazy." 

Kylen ran over to the bell, untied the cord and began pulling with all her strength. It was an old school bell up on a corner of the house. It had called the Celina family in from the fields for generations. She began jumping up and down, waving her hands over her head, laughing and screaming 'HOO-RAH.'

Allston thought she was nuts. "They can't hear the bell, Kylen," he said with the mild disgust common to seventeen-year-olds.

"But I can," she said, waving all the harder. Ewan came running out from the calf barn. Frank and Bridee emerged from the house without coats. The plane came to a standstill in midair - downwind of the paddock. The sound of the engines was muffled and seemed distant. Kylen could only imagine what it must sound like close up - or if the wind was different. It slowly began to descend - straight down. It was spectacular - a private air show. The aircraft stopped about 50 feet above the crest of the hill. It slowly rotated 360 degrees as if turning on the head of a pin. When it faced forward again it slowly "wiggled" its wings and began to slowly ascend, moving backwards at the same time. Allston waved his hat back and forth yelling his appreciation, Frank and Ewan waved and applauded. Kylen pumped her fist into the air. Bridee blew kisses.

Suddenly the craft seemed to stand on its tail and it took off. Spiraling as it climbed, it then headed to the west. Less than thirty seconds later it was again overhead executing an exact four-point roll as it flew over the farm.

"Well, I think that it is safe to say that the Colonel is back from Alabama," Frank joked. 

"I thought he was grounded," Allston said.

"From Hammerheads ... attack jets," Kylen explained. "It's a matter of total 'G' forces. If he was totally grounded he couldn't have gotten onto the Saratoga to begin with. "

"I don't hear anything unusual, but humor me. Boys - check the stock," Frank said. He turned and guided Kylen back into the house.

"We'll put him up in Aislen's room I think," Bridee said still looking up into the now empty sky.


	2. Two

Holding Up The Sky - Thuban 

(Two)

30, December, 2064

The house at Ridge Farm was unusually quiet. Half of the gang was away in Boston. It was the closing night of the Nutcracker. Kylen's younger sister, Eithne, had received wonderful reviews and family who had missed the opening were to be there for closing night. Dad, Emrys and Bridee were going to stay over at Christian's. She would have to help Ewan and Allston with the morning milking. Tomorrow half of the family would be back for New Year's Eve. 

Kylen was uncharacteristically rushing through her shower. She had, since her rescue, taken her time, savoring each possible moment in the warmth and humidity. Each step of the procedure was slow and deliberate - the choices of the towel and the music - the selection of the scent were major concerns. Everything was evenly paced and measured. It had become a pleasure, a performance piece and a ritual. It was her own time. Alone. Singular. It meant so much more than personal grooming - more than a private pleasure - more than her hobby: It was her vocation.

But in the last few days Kylen had changed the entire way she bathed and showered. She had received an official looking e-mail from The Fleet. Barring the unforeseen - she would receive a transmission from the Saratoga by vid/phone sometime between December 24th and January 2nd. It was a Christmas present for the troops and their families. Consequently, for the last few days, Kylen had lived tethered psychologically and physically to an area no more that one hundred feet from the phone. It was beginning to make her crazy. The family was getting tired of staying off of the phone. Kylen was getting tired of jumping up each time the damn thing rang. She was getting tired of being disappointed. And she was sick and tired of the rather smug tone of voice that Nathan's mother used when she called every day to check in to see if the call had come. Nathan had spoken with his parents on December 26th. 

Kylen had no idea how Nathan could have wrangled two of the coveted time slots, but she had accepted the communiqué at face value - in faith. Then the days had gone by with no communication. With every day of silence her anxiety level rose. Kylen was aware that she was becoming very poor company - snapping and short tempered. Often she wished that she was already working for Intelligence, that way she would know or, at least, could perhaps know if the delay was due to action - Nathan being in danger. But then again it was equally possible that it was just the delay to be expected when five thousand people are waiting to use the phones. After her liberation, on board The Nightingale, she had stood impatiently in those lines waiting for her turn. It had been incredibly frustrating and there had only been forty survivors jockeying for position. Kylen had a sudden thought: "This has got to be a real mess for Saratoga's Intelligence officers to deal with. How many calls did each person have to monitor? What were the buzzwords they are looking for? How long do they have to stay on duty before rotated for a rest? What a boring and uncomfortable assignment. What a headache. What a nightmare." Kylen was beginning to unconsciously take on the thought process of her new job.

The whole ordeal of waiting was made Kylen fidgety and nervous. She tried to emulate her mother. Always seemingly calm and in control - never a psychological feather out of place. Or so it had seemed to her children.

What Kylen found interesting was the fact that of all the sisters, Bridee, who had been only three when their mother had died, appeared to have inherited this unflappable demeanor. "I wonder if Mom used to cry in the shower? I wonder what she said to Dad in the dark?" Kylen vowed to spend more time with Bridee - to see how and what she thought.

Kylen realized that she was thinking of other things to avoid thinking about speaking with Nathan. Three times already she had made out lists of things to say and had torn them up in frustration and disgust. "On one hand there was just too much to say to fit into five minutes - even if I talk non-stop - only pausing to take in a breath. Then again the most important things - the things I've wanted to say could be said in one or maybe two sentences. Then what? Well, then, Idiot, you have to tell him about your new job. Or not tell him directly about your new job. But tell him so he will understand about your new job." McQueen would be arriving tomorrow. He had agreed to spend New Year's Eve at the farm. Kylen did not want to appear naive or childish - not able to handle the situation, but she had decided that if Nathan didn't call before McQueen arrived then she would try to get some guidance from the Colonel. "Kylen, he is just going to tell you: 'you're on your own there, Kid.' But I can at least try. Maybe he'll take pity on me." she thought.

Kylen put on her Greenbrier sweatsuit and went downstairs. 

"The Mouse is in the house. We are free from phone duty." Allston said to their older brother Ewan with obvious relief and long suffering.

"Can it," Kylen snapped, shocking both her brothers. She was losing her sense of humor - something that they weren't used to. Something they had rarely seen in her character before. She poured herself an ample drink. Scotch. This was new too. Ewan gave the glass and his sister an appraising look.

"What?" she snapped again. "I'm over twenty-one."

"So the rumors would have us believe," Ewan teased. He wasn't about to be bullied by his little sister's mood, but neither was he willing to confront her. 

Kylen took her scotch and retreated into her father's study. She had taken to sleeping in the room to be closer to the phone. Unable to read - her concentration wasn't up to it - she took out some knitting, which she hated but found somehow relaxing. 

Her mother had insisted that all of the children learn some sort of 'hand work' - even the boys. It had something to do with setting down learning pathways in the brain so all the children had been taught. Kylen had, even as a child, resented the distinctly 'domestic' implications of the craft, but now found it strangely calming.

Kylen muttered to herself: "Well, Penelope, it ain't weaving and I'll be damned if I ever take this apart, but I bet you didn't think that five thousand years after your death women would still be sitting around doing this to distract themselves while the men were away at war." Kylen started another row. Nothing fancy - straight old knit one, purl two - her concentration wasn't up to anything more demanding. As she eased into the rhythm Kylen did feel strangely connected to the women of the past. As if the yarn was somehow unbroken down through the ages - as if her spirit was now strung onto this thread along with the spirits belonging to generations of women before - as if she looked quickly over her shoulder she would see them all stretched out in a line behind her - a line reaching back seemingly forever. It was an oddly comforting image.

End chapter two


	3. Three

Holding Up the Sky - Thuban

(Three)

30, December,2064 (corrected Earthdate)

Saratoga

Procyon System

Nathan emerged from his shower definitely a man on a mission. He called impatiently to Cooper Hawkes, who was ready, waiting, and looking surprisingly pleased with himself. The squadron had only recently returned from perimeter duty and they only had a few minutes to make it to the rec. room before the scheduled phone allotment. Coop's scheduled allotment. Cooper had given Nathan the phone time. If they missed the slot their request would be moved back - again. Cooper didn't think he could stand it - let alone how Nathan felt. They left the quarters moving at double time. Captain Shane Vansen and Lt. Vanessa Damphousse, only recently out of sickbay, followed along behind. They didn't want to miss this either.

Twice a year the crew of the Saratoga was issued these special communication times and until this occasion Cooper had always sold or traded his slots away. Five minutes of phone time with your family was worth quite a bit of cash to a lot of people. Cooper made hay whenever the sun was shining, and he now had a credit balance larger than he had ever anticipated having in his entire life. The only draw back with his business arrangement was that Cooper had to be there to sign on for whomever had paid for his vid/phone time. Cooper wasn't really quite sure why, but he had given this time slot to Nate. The words had come out of his mouth before he could stop them, but it made him feel kind of good. Real good. Nate had jumped all over the offer and Shane and Vanessa had petted and cooed over Cooper like he was a rock-star or genius or something. That had felt really good too. Consequently, Lt. Cooper Hawkes, Kylen's Avenging Angel, was striding through the passageways of the Saratoga in front of Nathan. The look on the face of the young InVitro was one of determination. Certainly not a man to be trifled with - he was a man about to do something incredibly important. People stepped out of his way. Vanessa Damphousse was reminded of Colonel McQueen. Cooper had learned more from their C.O. than he knew or was willing to admit.

Cooper arrived at his assigned console two minutes before the appointed time, seriously bumming out the navy lieutenant who was hoping to jump the line. Ranks below Colonel/Lt. Commander were all equal when it came to holiday communication privileges. Cooper sat and rather imperiously held out his hand to Nathan for Kylen's number. He first typed in his own code, received permission to continue, and then with marked precision he typed in Kylen's code.

The screen flashed blue indicating that the connection had been made. A digital clock appeared in the upper right corner of the monitor. '5:00' It would start to count down as soon as the receiving party clicked in. The Wildcards were all frozen in place, Cooper still seated in front of the monitor, the others fanned around his back leaning in toward the console. The screen flashed into life and the clock started.

"Cooper? Cooper Hawkes?" Kylen's face changed instantaneously from a smile to an expression of anxiousness.

"She knows who I am," Cooper said proudly to the rest of the crew.

"Get out of the chair Hawkes. You're scaring her," Nathan pushed his buddy out of the chair and sat. "Hello, Kylen, Cooper gave me his time. He had to sign on."

"Oh, Nathan, I love you," Kylen breathed softly. She reached out and touched the screen with her fingertips. She knew it was a cliche, but was unable to stop herself.

"Hi Kylen," Cooper called leaning in over Nathan's shoulder.

"Hi Cooper, Thank you," Kylen whispered distractedly. She then seemed to come to. "Wait. Don't go yet. Are all you guys there? You all look so good. Thank you. Thank you so much. I don't know what to say. Captain Vansen? Shane? Vanessa? Look, I'm recording this. Quick, say Hi to the Co.... The Big Guy. I'll see him tomorrow."

Nathan hadn't taken his eyes off of her face - reading her and judging her condition for himself. She looked good. He now glanced up at the clock. "4:40."

"OK, make it quick," he said. Nathan was torn - jealous of the time he had with Kylen and proud of her that she would consider his friends. He knew, of course, that Kylen had been visiting McQueen regularly. It dawned on Nathan as it had on Shane that Kylen had had the presence of mind not to mention Colonel McQueen by name and rank. 

Shane and Vanessa leaned in over Nathan's shoulder. They both greeted Kylen then individually said something for Colonel McQueen. Both of them kept one eye on the clock, taking only about 10 seconds each. Nathan then said a quick Hello and thanked the Colonel for looking after Kylen. Cooper leaned in. The bravado - the man in charge demeanor - was gone. Cooper looked very much like what, in a sense, he was - only a boy. 

Kylen was astounded by the change. "It's OK, Coop," she gently encouraged.

Cooper looked into the monitor, obviously nervous and very shy. "Hi, Sir. We look out for each other. I try to do like you told me. ....."

"Come on, Coop," Vanessa gently urged.

Cooper looked down. The huge, strong, tough Marine was close to tears. He whispered. "I miss you. I try to make you proud."

"I know that he is very proud of you Cooper," Kylen whispered, comforting him. "Proud of all of you," she added with strength. "I'm proud of you all too."

Shane looked at the clock. '3:30' "CLEAR OUT," she ordered. "Good to see you, Kylen. Bye." The rest of the Cards then instantly disappeared.

Kylen spoke: "Wait, let me change the disk." Nathan could see her fumbling for a couple seconds. "There," she said. "This disk is just for me." Kylen's face beamed at Nathan from light years away. They were once more looking at one another alone. The awkwardness they had experienced at the time of their last good-bye began to resurface. What does one possibly say at moments like this? Other than repeatedly saying 'I love you'? For several seconds it was enough just to look at one another. It was enough to know that at this moment they were both alive and well.

"That was a nice thing to do, Kylen," he said.

"Did you get my package? she asked. "My e-mails and letters?"

"Not yet. Some letters. E-mails are the fastest, but they still take some time." Nathan knew that if he told her the actual time delay that the information would be censored, and in fact, the delays varied in any case.

"Well, expect a package. I didn't know quite what to send. The next one will be better, I promise. The Big Guy gave me some tips. We are all doing well. I've had a couple rough patches, but everything is under control. Honestly - don't worry. I'm finding my way. Eithne is dancing The Nutcracker in Boston. Dad only has one winter grain project cooking at the farm. I talk to your folks a couple times a week. Push may do a clerkship up at Steinbeck's Clinic this summer. Aislen's baby is due on the twenty-first. And I have a new job." There. Finally she had gotten it out.

"A new job?"

Now came the tricky part. She hadn't received any real guidance on this. The fact that Kylen would be in the employ of the United States Marine Corps was not classified. She had told Major Howard she would tell her father that she would be working with Howard, for General Radford. The Major had raised no objections. But Kylen remembered McQueen telling her that the censors kept lists. Lists of 'hot' names and places. Kylen couldn't just blurt out the truth. She didn't want a red flag going up by her own name - or Nathan's name.

"I'm going to work for the Corps - as a civilian employee. I'll be down in D.C." Kylen could tell her news had fallen flat - that Nathan wasn't overly enthusiastic. She attempted to gloss it over. "They should send you home for recruiting, Nathan. You are very persuasive."

Nathan had felt a flash of jealousy. Jealousy and anger. McQueen had spent time with Kylen - had probably been instrumental in her recovery. He had no way of knowing that this was the very same reaction that Kylen had on her first encounter with the Colonel. She had been jealous and momentarily angry that McQueen had obviously been a major influence in Nathan's life. That McQueen had seen Nathan almost daily - that they had talked - that they even knew each other.

"I thought you'd stay at home - in New England.... somewhere. Did 'He' say something to you to get you to do this?" The "he" in the sentence obviously meant Colonel McQueen and it irked Kylen. As if she couldn't make up her own mind - as if Six would try to push her into anything. But now was not the time.

"Relax, Sweetheart. The forever-to-remain-anonymous 'He' tried to persuade me against it."

Nathan visibly relaxed. "Are you sure about this, honey? Are you sure?"

"Nathan, I am absolutely sure. I need to.... to do ...." 

It was obvious to Nathan that she was trying to choose her words carefully. He concentrated fully on what she would say next. He was filled with unexpected apprehension. "Go on." He spoke softly. "I'm right here, Kylen. I'm listening." It was not a challenge or a taunt. Nathan was listening with every fiber of his being.

Kylen could see that he understood that she had to speak indirectly. "I've missed you so much, Nathan," she smiled and relaxed a bit herself.

Once again Nathan felt loved and in control. "Go on," he repeated.

Kylen knew she had to hurry. "You know, Nathan, how every now and then the pieces all fall into to place and you discover something? Something about yourself or something about other people?"

Nathan nodded his total understanding.

"Well, my new job isn't just to help protect the planet and our country. I want to do this to protect my family - to protect you and to protect myself."

Nathan knew exactly what she meant and it hit him like a physical blow. Kylen somehow knew the truth behind the start of the War. Aerotech's duplicity. If Kylen worked for the military the same strictures and laws would bind her. She would have to remain silent and her silence would guarantee the safety of her family.

She saw the change in him and rushed to comfort him. "I'm OK Nathan. We are all OK. I just intend to see that it stays that way. Nathan, I love you. Don't be angry."

"I get it. No, I'm not angry, Kylen." The clock read '0:20.' "I love you, Kylen. Did you ever read my note? The one from Tellus?"

Kylen smiled. "If that's what it takes?" she asked, remembering his beautiful note. Kylen had read it right before the attack. She had managed to escape the wreckage with a scrap of the note in her hand. She had managed to save that tiny scrap for almost six months before the AIs had found it.

"I'll see you on the top of the world, Kylen," Nathan whispered.

"I'll keep the ice warm for you, Nathan."

They spoke together: "I love yo........." The clock read 0:00 and the transmission was cut.

Kylen placed a label on the disk for McQueen. She watched the disk of her conversation with Nathan three more times before finally labeling it as well. She then turned on some music - she wanted something life affirming. Kylen chose Vivaldi and returned to her scotch and her knitting. "Maybe I will try a cable stitch. I bet Mom's books are somewhere in the attic," she thought. When the suite and the scotch were finished she moved into the living room and placed McQueen's disk in the branches of the Christmas Tree. "I hope it doesn't take him forever to find it," she said to herself. She grabbed her coat, boots and hat and went for a walk in the snow to gaze at the stars - untethered.

End chapter three


	4. Four

Holding Up The Sky - Thuban

(Four)

31, December, 2064

Ridge Farm, South Barre, MA

USA

At precisely 1400 McQueen pulled his rental car into Ridge Farm. He had made exceptionally good time on the way down from Deer Isle and had enjoyed the drive. He opened the trunk of the car and began to unload his gear. Kylen's father, Frank, called from the kitchen door.

"Colonel, Kylen is over at the Wests', she'll be back momentarily. They always try to keep her. Leave the bags and come in out of the cold. One of the boys will get those for you. That's why we have so many children in this house. "

McQueen stopped what he was doing. _"I guess that rank does have its privileges even here,"_ he thought. He pulled a long cylinder out of the trunk. As he made his way to the door, Emrys and Allston passed him. McQueen searched his memory for their respective callsigns - nicknames. They were Push and Skye, which Kylen had told him offhandedly, was short for Sky King, as if that had been enough of an explanation. It hadn't been. McQueen still didn't get the reference. 

"What do you what us to bring in?" one of the boys asked on the way past.

"Both bags. Be careful with the big one."

Frank held the door open and gave McQueen a hearty clap on the back as the man entered the warmth of the Celina kitchen. Eithne gave him a weak smile and waved from her spot at the table. Bridee trotted in from the keeping room and gave him a quick little hug for which he was unprepared and with which he fumbled a bit, but she smiled warmly up into his face nonetheless. "I'll take your coat," she said. 

"Where do we put this stuff?" Emrys asked, entering the room with a barracks bag. Allston followed with a beatup old seabag, which was half filled. 

"Aislen's room," Bridee piped up. The boys looked to their father, who nodded the affirmative. Bridee was obviously irritated that they hadn't believed her straight off, and flounced back into the keeping room.

"Leave the seabag," McQueen almost ordered, but tempered his tone just in time. "It's the big one," he added. _"These kids wouldn't know what a seabag was if it hit them over the head."_

"It's been you doing the fly-bys. It's been you, hasn't it?" Allston asked. 

"Kylen told us you were good, but the cows didn't even blink an eye. How did you manage to do that? To keep the sound so quiet?"

"That's my job," McQueen said reasonably. "Infiltration - that's the point. We try to be a quiet as we can." McQueen was relieved and satisfied. He hadn't wanted to spook the livestock and had been a bit worried.

McQueen had been busy the last three weeks. He had flown down to Loxley, visited with Glen's kids, seen the shrink and turned in his final fitness report. He had gotten his driver's license updated, had been requalified to fly the ISSCV, ISSAPC and the VS-53 Tarpon VTOL in simulators, and had managed to log in a few hours of flight time. Getting into a Hammerhead was out of the question - at least on Earth - so he didn't even try to talk anyone into that. When he had returned to Maine on the day after Christmas the first thing he had done was to hump on up to Brunswick Naval Air Station and put in for flight time. 

The young flight instructor who had gone up with McQueen for his flights had been more than worried about buzzing the farm and hadn't known quite how to temper McQueen's actions. First of all the Commander had given this Colonel the freedom of the base and had asked that he be given every assistance. Then one had to consider the fact that the guy was not a naval officer but a Marine - and everyone knew how they could be. And this Full Bird wore a black flightsuit with patches from both the 58th and the 127th squadrons. The Colonel vastly outranked the flight instructor and within five minutes it was obvious that he was the better pilot. When McQueen had checked in with the tower using the callsign "Queen Six' the instructor had decided that it would be in his own best interest to keep his mouth shut and go along for the ride. McQueen had blown the guy's socks off. 

"I 'borrowed' the flight instructor out of Brunswick, Maine. Had to requalify. Gotta get my time in. I don't want to lose the flight pay," McQueen told the Celina tribe.

"I wondered where the planes had come from," Frank remarked. _"The flight pay is the least of this man's concerns. He just wants to be up in the sky,"_ Frank thought, and it made him smile. He admired a man with dedication.

"I have something for you," said McQueen, gesturing with the cylinder he still held in his hand. "Is there someplace we can spread these out?"

Frank led the way to the dining room table, and in moments the Colonel had unrolled a series of maps. McQueen had printed out all the reconnaissance scans he had shot during his flights over the farm - topographical, heat signatures, structures, and general subsurface to the depth of two meters.

"I could have gotten deeper scans ... water, metallurgy, composition of the bedrock ... but the only way to look deeper with the equipment available here is to set off subsonic or sonic charges. I can get it done. Could do it myself. Requalification can cover a variety of activities, as I've discovered." He gave his almost smile, and Frank was left to wonder what T.C. McQueen had been up to. "But I wanted to check with you first. I knew I could do this much without spooking the cattle. The other scans? Well, they should be ok, but I wanted to get your permission. Here are the specs." McQueen handed the older man a small folder.

Frank was astonished. McQueen had just laid out on the dining room table maps and scans that would be outrageously expensive. The technology wasn't classified, but it was markedly restricted. He wondered momentarily why the Marine had done it - risked it. 

The Celina family had worked on the periphery of the InVitro Rights movement since the thirties: Never on the front lines, but never at the rear. In the early years Frank had hired a series of InVitros to help at the farm. The first one had been a bit of a disappointment and had left with almost no warning. The second and third had worked out extremely well, staying for years before moving on. Both had gone to work at one of the big corporate farms for better pay and benefits. One had even become a foreman: There had been Christmas cards from him for several years. Kylen only had the dimmest memories of those days. Frank was hit with a very clear memory of an InVitro Rights rally on the university campus years ago. A memory of Kylen in her stroller clapping her hands while the speeches went on. Karin had been pregnant with Emrys. The older children must have been in the daycare center. It had been late spring. There had been sunshine and flowers. Frank wondered if McQueen was already working in the mines at that time - or if he had even been born then - while Frank and Karin's daughter had held lilac sprigs in her chubby little hands and had played in the sunshine.

Frank then realized that T.C. McQueen, the InVitro, probably hadn't known what else to give him - to give the family. The gift was something that McQueen could do and do well. Something that would be useful and hopefully appreciated. McQueen's presentation of the maps had been very professional - all business. But Frank now felt that there was perhaps the tiniest undercurrent of eagerness - almost a desire to please on a personal level. Maybe. Perhaps. He understood that this was one of the few times that McQueen had made this sort of gesture and it was as if, underneath it all, McQueen wanted Kylen's father to be proud of him. Frank was proud of him - and for him. McQueen had given him a gift that was far more valuable than just the maps. 

"Thank you, son," Frank spoke softly as he shook McQueen's hand. The use of the term had unknowingly reinforced his position in T.C. McQueen's unconscious. Officers in the Marine Corps frequently used the term 'son' when addressing subordinates - no matter what their age. It was another custom of the Corps: It was part of the rhythm of McQueen's life.

"You're welcome, Sir," McQueen responded. "It really was my pleasure." He gave Frank a small smile. McQueen had indeed enjoyed the exercise, and Frank seemed to honestly appreciate it.

Frank wanted to clear the air between McQueen and himself. There was an unspoken tender subject between the two that he felt should be addressed and the sooner the better.

"I have to tell you that I attempted to talk Kylen out of this Marine Corps job," Frank admitted.

McQueen looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I did too, you know. At first I tried to persuade her against it, " he said. In truth, he had half expected to be met at the door of the farm by Frank with a shotgun in hand.

Frank nodded and spoke. "She told me. She also said to trust her. That she had good reasons."

"She does. I'm still not thrilled with it, Sir, but she does have her reasons. Good reasons," McQueen could at least give Frank that much.

Frank felt better now that the subject had been broached and disposed of.

"Loved the air show." Frank admitted honestly and smiled openly.

"The VS-53 VTOL? The Tarpon. It's a good aircraft," McQueen responded. Typically, he thought of the capabilities of the plane and not of his own skills as a pilot. McQueen turned back to the maps. "There are some things here that I'd like to show you."

As the two men began to look over the maps Kylen's brothers and sisters drifted into the room one by one. Curiosity over the Colonel's gift to their father and fear of being left out of the loop had gotten the better of even Eithne. She had been known to break into Scarlet O'Hara whenever the War was brought up. "War, war, war. All this talk of war is spoiling all the barbecues." Several good-natured bets had been placed as to if she had the nerve to say such a thing in front of 'the Rookie', which, after Thanksgiving, was what most members of the family called McQueen behind his back. Like her sister, Eithne's head did not screw on and off. As much as she had a personal antipathy for anything military - after all, the ballet was closing to support the war effort: The Cause' - as she now called it. Eithne was not about to poke a stick at the tiger.

When Kylen returned from luncheon with Nathan's parents she heard voices coming from the dining room. One of them was McQueen's. Without removing her coat she moved toward the room. Standing in the doorway, she saw the resident family members all grouped around the table. Kylen counted heads. McQueen and her father were reviewing maps. Her brothers and sisters were concentrating, studying the work, and listening to the two men, leaning in and occasionally making comments. Colonel McQueen did not look precisely like one of the group, standing a little apart, everyone respecting his personal space, but it seemed natural and somehow right that he should be there. It was, Kylen supposed, part of Door Number Two - the Commander. McQueen was secure and comfortable in the leadership role. He wore the mantle effortlessly. _"God doesn't give us the gift of leadership for ourselves. It is a gift he gives us for others,"_ she thought. 

From her spot leaning on the doorframe between the kitchen and the dining room she watched her family and McQueen deal with one another. It was an interesting tableau. 

"Home is the sailor. Home from the sea," McQueen said softly without looking up. He somehow knew that she had come home - had entered the area.

"The Hunter is home from the hill," she responded. Her family looked up and made their hellos. Now dividing into smaller groups, each with its own map, they spread out around the table.

"Came see what the Rook... What Colonel McQueen gave Dad," Ewan called from the far side of the table. Whatever it was, Kylen recognized that her family was deeply interested. McQueen briefly looked up at her, making eye contact and giving her a small smile. 

"Let me see," Kylen said as she crossed to the table, stood beside McQueen and put one arm around his waist, giving him a squeeze. McQueen did not respond in kind, but Frank noticed that the man leaned into the pressure Kylen placed upon him - that he seemed to relax in her presence. 

"Robert Louis Stevenson," she whispered, pretending to be interested in the maps. McQueen looked down at her and smiled with obvious pleasure.

Kylen was looking down, her hair half hiding her face, but she watched McQueen through her hair. "Sailor?" she whispered, questioning him with mild sarcasm.

"It's what came to mind," McQueen admitted, mildly amused with himself.

Kylen gave him a second squeeze and then turned her attention to the map in earnest.

"What is this?" McQueen asked, pointing to an indistinct area on the map in front of them.

"Oh, that is 'Dozer's dream,'" she said. "Connor's doctoral project. I'll take you out there tomorrow." And then she whispered to him: "I talked to Nathan last night."

McQueen felt momentarily uncomfortable: If he had known - if he had been there - he could have given them more time. McQueen still had forty minutes of communication time built up. Until recently he had had over seventy minutes. He had stopped selling it off after the final payment on the Harley, and had begun to bank it for reasons he couldn't begin to explain. Last week he had used a half-hour. He had taken a run over to Louisiana and had finally visited Glen's family. He had managed to have the luck of the draw and had been there when Glen had checked in with the holiday phone call from the Saratoga. Knowing that Glen was available, McQueen had called him back on the secured channel, letting the kids talk for another twenty minutes and then taking ten minutes for himself. If McQueen had come to visit the farm a day earlier he could have given Kylen more time.... Maybe he could have talked to his Kids himself.

"We've got to talk," he whispered to Kylen.

"No shit," she mouthed silently, but she gave him a smile. 

"It must have gone pretty well," McQueen thought.

End chapter four


	5. Five

Holding Up The Sky - Thuban

(Five)

31, December, 2064

Ridge Farm, South Barre , MA

USA

The family spent another twenty minutes perusing the maps and then began to peel off, going back to their own activities, The maps were left on the dining room table for the time being. Too special to immediately put away - they were something to be savored. The adults had begun to walk toward the kitchen when something caught Frank's eye.

"Do you want one of the boys to take this duffel bag upstairs for you?" Frank asked.

"Duffel bag is Army and I'm not a dog-face. Marines carry seabags," McQueen thought, but realized that no one in the Celina family would possess that little bit of knowledge. He would have to modify his thinking.

"Marines call it a seabag, Dad," Kylen said, patting her father on the back.

McQueen gave Kylen a quick glance. She had once again surprised him. "Now where did she pick up that bit of knowledge?" he wondered. "She is taking all this seriously."

"No, thank you. I'll take care of it," McQueen said to Frank.

Kylen took McQueen by the arm. "Come on, you have yet to admire our Christmas tree. It is pretty spectacular this year." She steered him into the living room. "There are a couple presents under there for you."

McQueen stopped in his tracks. He looked obviously uncomfortable. After the books the family had given him at Thanksgiving, he had not anticipated that there would be anything else. He didn't want to have to sit in the middle of the family - the center of attention - and have to open gifts. McQueen wasn't all that good at apologies, good-byes, or receiving gifts and compliments. He was somewhat short of experience in those areas. People learned the art of those social amenities through experience - through years of participation. McQueen had been nervous enough about the maps. His gift had been a success, and he had calmed down. Now he was tense again. Kylen sensed his discomfort.

"There's just one from me and there are a couple from Bridee." She paused and looked him over. "Thirteen-year-old girls are new thing for you, aren't they."

McQueen bristled a bit at her implication - that he didn't understand the situation. After all he had just last week spent a day with Glen Ross' family. Hell, he had known Glen's youngest since the day she was born. McQueen was rather proud of the fact that he could feed and burp a baby without too much assistance. He could change a diaper if the need arose. Until that moment he hadn't realized that somewhere along the line the Ross kids had moved from calling him 'Tee' and measuring their hands against his to calling him Colonel McQueen' and maintaining a respectful distance. They had been happy to see him, but McQueen felt that they were relieved when he left right after dinner. It might be just the way that Natural Born kids grew. But McQueen became uncomfortably aware that the children recognized his thousand-yard stare. The kids probably caught a faint scent of battle following him as well. They were old enough now to understand what he did - what their father did. But Kylen was, of course, correct - he knew next to nothing about the workings of teenaged girls. She spared him the need to answer.

"OK. Just remember ten and three. Sometimes thirteen-year-olds are three and sometimes they are ten times three. They can act like a three-year-old or a thirty-year-old. The trick is that you never know which one you are talking to. Never be condescending. Oh, yes, then there is the omniscience thing."

McQueen shook his head. 

"Omniscience begins at around age thirteen and lasts until about age nineteen or twenty. Trust me on this. I remember," Kylen confided.

"Well, then, how do you suggest I handle this?" McQueen asked.

"Delicately. She spent a great deal of thought on your gifts."

He now felt even more apprehension. He would have to go through opening presents, and now he knew that Kylen wanted him to be good at it. It was important that he be good at it ... for Bridee ... and for Kylen, who spoke again.

"We tell her that you are going to open her presents. You just need to remember that she took a lot of effort to get these for you. You will know what to say." Kylen could tell that McQueen wasn't sure if he believed her. "You will know. You will," she encouraged him with a soul-warming smile. He was suffused with her total confidence in him.

"Bridee, come in here, please," Kylen called , maneuvering the Colonel into the living room, seating him in the middle of the couch. She brought three packages out from under the tree and placed them next to McQueen. Bridee and Kylen perched themselves on either arm of the couch – innocently, but effectively blocking his lines of retreat. 

"This one is one of two from me." Bridee handed him a box, which McQueen opened. He parted the tissue paper and pulled out a woolen scarf. The wool was of high quality - soft, almost buttery. It would keep him warm, and it wouldn't be 'itchy.' 

"I noticed that you didn't have a scarf. And it is winter and it is a special scarf," Bridee explained. It was obvious to McQueen that she was just as nervous as he was. She wanted desperately for him to like her gift.

"It's very nice. Thank you." He was genuinely touched, but his appreciation sounded hollow to his own ears. Like her sister and her father, Bridee saw the little things. She paid attention to details. "Tell her that," he thought. "It was thoughtful of you to notice that I needed something like this." For McQueen, however, there was a bit of a problem. No matter the quality of the wool - the feel of the scarf: It was something that he would never have chosen for himself - something he would never wear. The scarf was plaid: It was a black, red and gold. Something he had seen somewhere before, but couldn't remember where. A beautiful piece, but plaid? "Well, I could just wear it here so she won't feel bad," he bargained with himself.

"It goes with your second gift. Here," Bridee said, smiling as she handed him the second gift. 

"Well, she didn't run from the room crying - so far so good," thought McQueen.

Inside the second box was a matched set of coffee mugs – heavy and white, with an emblem. It was the coat of arms for the clan McQueen.

"Kylen said she didn't know if you were given the name McQueen or if you chose it later," Bridee explained, referring to the practice of InVitros changing their names when they achieved their emancipation. It had been a common practice during the Civil Rights Movement of the twentieth century. Many people of color had changed their names - shedding so-called 'slave names' for names with personal significance. "I told her that it didn't matter if you kept the name they gave you or if you changed it - it didn't matter because, either way, in the end, you chose it for yourself. I researched the name. I looked up the motto, and I think that even if you weren't actually technically born into it, you belong in the clan anyway." 

She pointed to the motto of the coat of arms on the mug the Colonel held in his hand. "See? 'Constant and faithful.' It's kind of like Semper Fi, isn't it? They only came in sets of two, but I thought you could leave one here. That way you can have your own mug whenever you come home. When you come to visit, I mean. I know that you like coffee. You take it black." 

Bridee became aware that she was chattering like a wind-up toy, and that the Rookie was staring at her. She suddenly became unbearably self-conscious and stopped speaking so abruptly that the resulting silence was a shock - to herself , and to McQueen and Kylen. The silence was worse than the chatter, so Bridee spoke again, but slower and more softly.

"The scarf. It's the McQueen tartan. I called five different places to find it. Kylen had to take me to Worchester to get it. I wanted the gift to mean something - for it to be special."

McQueen stood up. Bridee was instantly silenced. He drew his wallet out of his jeans and took out a small laminated card. It was his membership to the 127th Association. It had been a loose organization of current and former members of the squadron. A two-page quarterly newsletter and a reunion/party once a year. Now there were only former members. The squadron was gone. He handed Bridee the card. One side was black with the red, gold and white insignia of the 127th. 

"That's what the patch for my old squadron looks like. It is very very important to me," he said.

"They are the same colors that are in the scarf," Bridee said breathlessly. She knew that she had selected something that he would think was special. It was an amazing thing. She was incredibly relieved. She smiled openly up into his face.

Bridee then considered the card for a second time before reluctantly returning it to McQueen. Part of her wanted to keep it. 

"Did you know about the name and the motto?" she asked.

"No. No, I didn't." McQueen had never bothered to look it up. It was a name he had been given by strangers, not a name inherited from an affectionate family. But McQueen had never thought of himself as having any other name. He had never really thought to change it because he had built a life that was basically useful. His own life had forged the meaning of his name: There had never been a need to look it up. "Constant and faithful," he whispered.

"Yeah, I thought the same thing," Kylen said.

"Now open Kylen's present," Bridee said.

"Can I do that later?" he asked. McQueen brought his seabag over to the table. "It's not much, but I brought a few things." He opened the bag and pulled out - fresh from down south - mesh bags filled with oranges and grapefruits. He pulled out what appeared to be a rolled-up sweatshirt. He lifted a bottle of champagne from the folds of the shirt, and then he handed the bottle to Kylen. "There are three more of these," he said with false gravity. Impulsively he pulled the tags off of the new sweatshirt and tossed it to Bridee. McQueen had never worn it. Just a gray sweatshirt with the eagle, globe and anchor. "For you," he mumbled.

The girl was thrilled. "Is it real?" she asked. "I mean - a real Marine Corps sweatshirt?"

"Got it on the base," McQueen asserted.

"Thank you. No really, thank you. Can I put it on?"

"It's yours. You can do whatever you want."

Bridee excused herself and went upstairs with her treasure. "I bet that Cooper has one like this. I just know it," she thought.

"She is up there now with the shirt imagining how Hawkes would fill it out," Kylen said gently, amusement evident in her voice.

McQueen gave her a look of surprise.

"No. Don't worry. That was perfect, McQueen." 

He reached into the bag again and brought out a small gift, modestly wrapped in plain white paper. He tossed this to Kylen. She was surprised and speechless for several seconds. 

"Is that all it takes to keep her quiet?" he thought. They opened their presents together.

McQueen unrolled a wall hanging. Japanese characters on a plain white linen cloth suspended from a slender bamboo rod. 

The characters had been executed in an unpracticed hand. They were rough and unpolished, as if the calligraphy had been done by a small child. McQueen remembered that Kylen had once told him that she had tried calligraphy - and that she didn't have the self-discipline for it. She had been correct. Sumi-e was not her form, but she had done this for him. Suddenly the obviously amateur artwork he held in his hand became one of the most elegant pieces he had ever seen. He wondered how many pieces of linen she had gone through to come up with this - her best effort. How many rough drafts and pieces of practice paper? Where had she found the characters? They certainly weren't common. She had left the statement - the poem - unfinished, which was actually a very Eastern device. Kylen had spent a great deal of time on this - had given it great thought. The hanging read: 'Shakespeare is easy...' 

"It's life that's hard," he said softly, completing the verse they had composed during the worst part of their trip home. Kylen was pleased and felt at home in his company.

Kylen opened the small box he had given to her. Inside the box, nestled in cotton wool, were two small gold bars - the 'butter bars' of a second lieutenant. Kylen plucked one out of the cotton and placed it in the palm of her hand - testing its weight. She had accepted a position with Marine Intelligence as a civilian employee. The job came with the assimilated rank of second lieutenant. McQueen had not been thrilled with the concept and had told her as much. She was technically not entitled to the bars and could not wear them. McQueen would know this, but the gift demonstrated his ultimate understanding of why she had taken the job - his blessing , if you will. She smiled to herself and examined the pin more closely. There were a few very fine scratches on the bar. She picked up the second pin. It, too, had one or two small scratches. Kylen had a sudden and intense emotional realization. These had been McQueen's bars. The former slave, the InVitro, had worn these when he had become an officer. They were a symbol of his achievement. He had saved them in a box lined with cotton batting. He had hung onto them for what? Ten, maybe twelve years? Kylen could imagine the box in the corner of his top drawer. He had dug them out of his storage locker to bring to her - to give to her this piece of his life. It was a remarkable gift.

"I'll keep them safe for you," she whispered, and her voice cracked.

McQueen could see that she had understood. He had known that in the end she would, but had thought that he might have to explain. Her insight was another present in and of itself.

"I know," he whispered back.

End chapter five


	6. Six

Holding Up The Sky - Thuban

(Six)

Dinner was somewhat rushed. Everyone one seemed to have their own agenda. Conversations were truncated and in the shorthand language common to tightly knit families.

McQueen had agreed to spend New Year's with Kylen and her family based upon her solemn oath that it would be a small quiet affair - nothing like Thanksgiving. Many members of the tribe would be celebrating elsewhere. She had promised that the 'little' kids' had their own party planned and wouldn't be a bother. Well, it was now 2100 and the kitchen was starting to fill up with teenagers and college kids - about a dozen all told. _"Promises. Promises,"_ he thought ruefully as he entered the living room eager to get away from the growing mirth and confusion. He walked into the middle of a bargaining session between Allston and Emrys and their father, Ewan, and Kylen.

"We didn't think of it 'til we saw the Colonel's maps," Allston said.

"We can just turn on the power. It'll warm up fast," Emrys interjected.

"NO," the three adults answered together. 

"But Dad," Allston tried again. 

"Don't even think about it," Frank answered in the universal tone of the irritated parent.

"It's just out there empty." Emrys chimed in.

"And that is the way it's going to stay. Forget it."

"Give it up, guys. You can party at my place or you can sit around in the kitchen with us." Ewan gave his younger brothers a choice and the choice was obvious. Emrys and Allston turned away in defeat.

"The door is unlocked. Take a good look around. It had better look the same when I come home," Ewan called after them.

Frank looked mildly embarrassed that McQueen had walked in on the confrontation. "Ewan offered them his cottage for a party - now they want to move it over to Connor's project.'"

"Maybe the college kids, but not Allston, Eithne and their crew. No way," Kylen chimed in.

"Oh? So speaks the voice of wisdom and experience?" Frank teased her.

"The cottage is here," Ewan said crossing into the dining room and indicating it on one of the maps. It was a small structure on a side road across the road and only about fifty yards from the main house. "And here is The Dream." Ewan pointed to the indistinct area of the map that McQueen had questioned earlier. It was a good half a klick (kilometer) from the house.

"I want to check in on them during the evening, and frankly, I don't feel like walking that far," Frank admitted.

McQueen gave a low laugh of amusement and recognition. "I learned that trick from one of my old C.O.s. Let your people blow off some steam every now and then. Check in on them - be a reminder - but don't hang around."

"Do you do that with Nathan and the 58th?" Kylen asked, mildly shocked.

"They haven't needed that in a while. They know their limits," McQueen told her. His pride in the group was obvious.

Kylen was becoming increasingly frustrated. The small disk with the greetings from the Wildcards was still undiscovered, resting in the branches of the Christmas tree. _"I should have known that he wouldn't spend time looking at the tree. That he wouldn't feel curiosity about the decorations. It really isn't his style." _

"Let us clear out the 'wrecking crew,' Kylen said referring to the gang of kids in the kitchen. She pushed her brother and father toward the noise in the other room and spoke to McQueen over her shoulder. "You go into the living room. We'll join you shortly." A few moments later Bride, wearing the Marine Corps sweatshirt, appeared at McQueen's side.

"Kylen said that I was to show you the tree." She gestured toward it. "Well, there it is," she said, just a touch sullen, clearly not happy with being dismissed from the activity in the other room.

"Why does she think I need to be shown a tree?" he asked.

Bridee, to his surprise, carefully considered his question. "Maybe it's because our ornaments all mean something. Birthdays, vacations, big events and we made a bunch of them too. They are pretty neat."

"OK, I'll play along," he thought. "Show me," he said.

Bridee began to point out different ornaments - explaining the history and significance of each. The one Christmas that Amy and McQueen had spent together - really together - she had put up a Christmas tree purchased already decorated by a designer in Mobile. 

McQueen thought about his earlier conversation with Bridee. "I never thought of changing my name. Have you?" he asked.

Bridee gave him a shy smile. "Sometimes. Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a prettier name - something more exciting or musical - like Aislen - but my name is pretty good. It is who I am. Besides it can change all on its own. I can be Bridee or I can be Bridgid. So that is kind of neat. I mean my nickname isn't something silly like Push, or Dozer, or Mouse."

"Or 'The Rookie,'" McQueen teased.

Bridee turned crimson. "You weren't supposed to know that."

"I'm not stupid." He gave her a half smile.

"Yours was the first. The first nickname I ever gave anybody. I didn't do it on purpose."

"I know."

"It just sort of happened ... Colonel McQueen? ... What is your first name? ... If I may ask?"

McQueen took in a deep breath. People had ridiculed his name for his entire life. "_Get ready_," he thought and then he told her. "It's Tyrus."

"Whoa," she whispered.

McQueen waited for the usual why-did-they-do-that question, but Bridee did not go that route.

"That's an old name. It might even be older than mine."

"It might be, at that," he agreed and turned again to the Christmas tree ornaments.

The two people with the ancient names - a bond now shared between them - went through another half dozen explanations before McQueen finally spotted the disk. He snatched it from the branches and turned to see Kylen, grinning like an idiot, standing by the doorway to her fathers study. With a theatrical sweep of her hand she gestured him into the study. 

"It took you forever to find that," she whispered as he passed her. "The viewer is on," she said, closing the door behind him, leaving him alone with the 58th.

Bridee came up behind her older sister.

"He knew about 'The Rookie.'" Bridee whispered, horrified.

"Of course he did, Baby." Kylen smiled and gave her little sister a hug. The two went out into the kitchen.

McQueen's hand was poised to insert the disk into the viewer when he hesitated. He pulled back his hand and looked at the bit of plastic, turning it over in his fingers, hating to admit to himself that a lot of personal weight rested in the small silver grooves.

"Screw it," he thought. He pushed the disk into the slot and punched 'play.' 

There on the screen was Cooper Hawkes, which was a bit of a surprise. There was a determined expression on his face. Vansen, Damphousse, and West were arranged like a human halo around Hawkes shoulders. They all looked eagerly into the monitor. 

McQueen heard Kylen's voice. "Cooper? Cooper Hawkes?"

Hawkes' expression changed to one of delight when Kylen recognized him.

McQueen hit 'pause'. He wanted to take a moment to read their faces. It was something he had always done when they had returned from a mission - examined them all for signs of stress and fatigue. Who looked strong? Who looked fried? Did anyone look high and to the right_? "I'd order Damphousse back to sick bay for the once over though," _he thought to himself. But the Wildcards looked centered. Tired, but generally good to go. McQueen felt his emotional response growing. _"Don't just sit here staring at the screen," _he ordered himself. He decisively hit the 'play' button.

End chapter six


	7. Seven

Holding Up The Sky - Thuban

(Seven)

McQueen didn't keep track of how many times he watched the disk, but at the end of the images, the action of hitting 'rewind' and 'play' became part of the rhythm of the whole recording. 

"Wait, let me change the disk" - rewind - play. "

"Wait, let me change the disk" - rewind - play. "

"Wait, let me change the disk" - rewind - play. "

When he finally felt that there was no more new information to be gleaned from viewing, McQueen punched 'eject', pocketed the disk and left Frank's study. Thirty minutes had passed.

The house was now remarkably different. The lights were dimmed and the only sounds were the strains of The Messiah softly playing in the living room and the muffled sounds of a quite conversation coming from the kitchen. McQueen moved to the Christmas tree. He was half tempted to place the disk back in among the branches - his first ornament. "Maybe ... Someday ... Maybe...." he thought.

McQueen heard Kylen come up behind him. She hadn't tried to sneak into the room, but she moved quietly, respectfully. _"She's learned she can't sneak up on me,"_ he thought with mild amusement. She handed him his Marine Corps mug. Inside - two fingers of scotch. 

"Thank you," McQueen said without looking at her.

"We started without you," she replied.

"No. I mean, thank you." he looked down at her. 

"Merry Christmas, Six," she smiled back up at him. "It was Cooper's time after all."

"Do you know what that means, Kylen? How significant it was for Hawkes to give Nathan the time?"

Kylen didn't answer. She had inkling, but really didn't know.

"A person can sell their phone time. The Brass turns a blind eye to it. I paid off my Harley selling off my communication time in bits and pieces. For Hawkes to give away his time ... It is significant." "On several different levels," he reflected.

"Merry Christmas, Coop," she whispered and toasted the air with her glass. 

McQueen and Kylen contemplated the tree in companionable silence for a few moments.

"The big guy?" he finally asked her with feigned irritation. 

"It's what came to mind," she said easily.

McQueen gave her a quick once over. She was speaking the truth. She hadn't wanted to use his name over an unsecured channel and it was the substitute that she had come up with in a split second. Kylen had no idea of the fact that he had once reamed the entire squadron - rather personally - because Wang had referred to him as a 'guy.' Actually it was sort of funny in an 'only Kylen' kind of way. What McQueen did not quite yet grasp was the fact that only Kylen could get away with it.

"What is going on in the kitchen?" he asked.

"We are just putting together some hors d'oeuvres. We'll bring them out in a few minutes." 

"Marines call that 'small chow'." He said it on purpose - to make her laugh. He succeeded.

****************************

The adults - Frank, McQueen, Ewan and Kylen - spent the next hour or so in relaxed conversation. Kylen had not lied. New Year's Eve at the Celina's was most definitely a low-key affair, which suited McQueen to a tee. For the first time he had really heard the War discussed within the walls of the house - albeit in was in the broadest of terms. They broke out McQueen's champagne as midnight approached. 

Donning their coats, they took a moment to watch the ball fall in Time's Square and then immediately McQueen was led outside to the front yard. The kids had left Ewan's and were filing into the open space. 

Frank spoke. "I know that this year outdoor lighting was prohibited for energy conservation, but I figure that well.... A few minutes ... we all need to have faith ... to have hope." With that he pointed a handheld remote at the barn and instantly a large star nailed to the peak of the roof was illuminated. The teenagers cheered and someone produced sparklers.

"Why, Six, I believe that is your star," Kylen whispered. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and handed him a lit sparkler before he could react.

McQueen watched the group hug and kiss, wishing each other Happy New Year. "What a brave new world to have such beings in it," he thought.

End chapter seven


	8. Eight

Holding Up The Sky - Thuban

(Eight)

01, January, 2065

Even though it was still dark, McQueen was not the first one up. He could hear Frank and Ewan down in the kitchen. _"Coffee before going out to the barn, I guess." _He was a bit embarrassed for no good reason, but he was unused to anyone beating him to the punch in the morning. He was used to having a few minutes to himself whether it be at Loxley or the Clinic. Someone was always awake and about on the 'Toga.' He made his way to the kitchen.

Morning greetings were passed between the three men. The exchanges were brief. They had all stayed up way later than usual the night before, but the farm was - in a sense - not unlike the Marine Corps. There was always something to do first thing in the morning. 

"Going for a hike, Colonel?" Ewan asked good-naturedly.

"If it's all right. I thought I'd look things over on foot," he responded, gesturing to his new boots - boondockers. "Thought I'd start to break them in."

"As long as you don't care what you step in," Frank joked mildly.

"Not a problem. Whatever it is - I've stepped in worse," McQueen joked back easily.

Frank gestured toward the milking parlor. "Gotta go. Breakfast in about two hours." He and Ewan left the house. A few seconds later McQueen could hear the father and son harmonizing as they crossed the yard. It was not a song he recognized. He finished his coffee and hit the road. He only had two hours to reconnoiter.

******************

During his recon McQueen found three separate places around the farm where symbols and characters had been carved on the lintels of doorways. Some had been crossed out and some repeated. They were InVitro symbols. Like the dispossessed from centuries past: gypsies, runaway slaves, hobos - freed or escaped InVitros had established a system of symbols, which they used to mark property. McQueen knew what the symbols were but he did not know what most of them meant. He had never attempted to live out amongst civilians – natural- borns. He hadn't learned any but one or two of the most common symbols. Those that signified if it was safe to enter a restaurant or store. He could only interpret one symbol - one that appeared in all three places. It was a circle divided into quarters by a cross. 'Here live kind and generous people." He took a moment to memorize the other carvings. Hawkes would know what they meant.

One hundred and fifteen minutes later McQueen entered the milking parlor for the first time. It was gleaming and as clean as possible. But the one thing that hadn't ever really occurred to McQueen was the fact that real animals were really cared for here. The place had the distinct smell of milk, of course. Fresh milk. He had never thought about the smell of the liquid before - unless of course it was spoiled or ripe, but this was the scent of absolutely fresh milk, rich with cream. There was also the earthy smell of the animals and the smell of the grain they munched while being milked. It was warm and damp. The cattle were all washed off prior to milking - a process some seemed to enjoy more than others. The floor was almost continuously being sprayed down by one of the two men. There was the rhythmic hum and swish of the milking machines and McQueen could see the heavy white liquid moving through glass pipes to what he assumed was a holding tank of some kind in the next room.

"Here," Frank said, smiling as he handed McQueen the hose. He gestured to the InVitro's boondockers. McQueen sprayed off his boots and then moved off to a place that looked to be out of the way. He leaned against the wall watching the activity. It was smooth, economical and obviously well drilled by both men.

"Did you have a good walk?" Frank asked.

"I need to speak with both of you," McQueen called over the hum, cutting right to the heart of the matter. "Is there somewhere we can talk without the kids?"

"We can have breakfast over at the cottage I suppose," mused Frank.

"Good. I want to discuss something that may be very important," McQueen offered. He braced himself before making his next statement. He knew that it was something that neither man wanted to hear. "I want to go over a few things. I want to give you some ideas of what to do.... What to do if things do not go well. "

The Celina men both stopped what they were doing. McQueen's tone of voice left no doubt as to what he had meant. He had produced the maps - had walked the property - to get ideas of how to best protect the family in the event that Earth defenses fell - what to do if they were invaded. 

"What do you know that we don't?" Frank whispered.

"Nothing. Nothing solid," McQueen spoke hastily_. "Well, I can see I'm screwing this up,"_ he thought and then spoke. "I don't know anything more. The situation seems to be at a stalemate, but I ... I didn't want to leave here ... to leave here without.... "

"I had thought we could go up to the Adirondacs," Frank said.

"I don't advise that. The Chigs work with the AIs. Going into the mountains didn't help during the AI Wars. It is too much the cultural icon. It was one of the first places the AIs targeted. Terrorism - attack the supposed strongholds - bring them down first. No, I actually think that the farm could be a pretty good place. The barn and silos are good landmarks - great for dead reckoning - flying without instruments. "

"Well, wouldn't the enemy want to bomb us then?" Ewan asked.

"If they are good landmarks for us - they'd be good for them as well," McQueen said.

"You want to give us ideas. To give us options," Frank said softly. 

"Yes, Sir," McQueen answered. "I think Kylen should be involved as well."

"Well, we will just get her up then," Frank said, placing a hand on McQueen's shoulder to convey his trust.

One of the cows gave an irritated bellow. She was out of grain. The noise brought all three men out of their thoughts. The Celinas finished up the milking with McQueen watching and then the three walked over to the cottage.

******************

Kylen nursed her coffee in the relative quiet of the kitchen. She had had way too much of McQueen's champagne the night before and was now feeling every sip. The teenagers were still in bed. Her father and Ewan should have been in from the morning milking, but they weren't eating breakfast, as was the habit. Colonel McQueen was nowhere to be found, which meant that he had undoubtedly gone for a morning walk in the snow, maybe even a run. He was getting around better every day. _"He'll be gone soon too. They aren't going to let him go too much longer,"_ she thought.

The phone rang. Kylen groaned as she rose to answer it.

"Get your act together, Celina. The day is wasting. Bring the maps over here to Ewan's," McQueen ordered over the wire and then abruptly hung up.

"Aye, aye, Sir. And good morning to you too, Sir." She muttered and called into question McQueen's dubious parentage with a nonstop string of sarcasm as she gathered the requested items, put on her coat and made her way through the cold air of the morning to Ewan's cottage, muttering to herself the whole time. 

Ewan caught site of her as she entered his yard. "Whoa, I'd say a hangover of about five on the Richter scale." He laughed ironically. "Better you than me, Colonel."

"Get her some coffee and some aspirin," McQueen said softly almost solicitously. Frank was again left to wonder about the dichotomies of the man's behavior. 

McQueen thanked Kylen as he took her coat. He then spread the maps on Ewan's table. Kylen bolted the aspirin that Ewan handed her and sipped her coffee. The men had thrown together a breakfast. Omelets of some kind. The smell was making Kylen's stomach roll. 

"OK, I give. Why are we all here? Why didn't we just do this over at the house?" she asked.

"Because I didn't want to have this discussion in front of the younger ones. We can fill in Connor and Christian later," Frank said. "Colonel McQueen approached your brother and me this morning with some potentially important proposals." 

Kylen was instantly awake and attentive. McQueen was well pleased with the change in her demeanor. He needed her clear headed. He knew that she habitually planned escape routes. When it came to the safety of the farm and her family, Kylen undoubtedly had thought of a few things herself by now. 

"Can you take me out to see Connor's project?" I walked around the outside of it, but I'd like to see the inside," McQueen asked.

Ewan opened a drawer in his desk and removed a ring of keycards. "Lets go." The four went to Ewan's truck - a model that had always been called a pickup. McQueen easily hoisted himself into the open back end of the vehicle and held out his hand to Kylen.

"The fresh air will do you good," he told her.

"It's cold. Are you doing this to punish me?" she asked.

"Consequences of your own actions, Sailor," he teased. "The champagne was good, wasn't it? I think I chose well Consider your options carefully. Back here with me, bouncing along with the wind in you face, or up front crammed into the overheated cab with your father, brother and the smell of eggs and bacon."

Her stomach rolled again. Kylen held up her hand to silence him. McQueen grabbed it and helped her clamber onboard. He banged on the roof of the cab - the universal signal to move out.

In a few minutes they were at "The Dream." It had been Connor's doctoral project in construction engineering. On the south side there was a semicircular wall of polymeric panels dug into the side of the rolling hill, a wall about ten meters at the base and about four meters at the highest point. The footprints of McQueen's visit earlier in the morning were visible in the snow. They crisscrossed the area. He had given the place a good going over. The combination of materials and their angle was what had caused the skewed images on the scan. Ewan quickly plowed the snow away from the front of the wall, and unlocked a small door in one of the panels. He entered the structure and in moments the panels folded back on one another revealing a wall of glass. The rest of the group followed Ewan into the structure. Frank spoke.

"Connor's project was the use of excavating instrumentation he had designed in conjunction with the structural aspects of the building. The two things happen simultaneously. We all called it Dozer's Daydream. When they were building it I called it the nightmare," Frank chuckled, but he was clearly proud of the achievement. "It actually went in incredibly fast. Plumbing and wiring took the longest, but with a four-man crew the whole thing was up and ready to go in three days. Connor always makes it sound so easy, but I find that I never can quite describe it.

"How much ground is overhead? McQueen asked.

"I think that it's about ten feet at the highest part of the structure. I don't remember all the specs. But I remember that it had to be at least ten feet." Ewan said.

That explained to McQueen why the building hadn't shown up clearly on the shallow scans. A subsonic would find it - would find anything, but even then there was a possibility it could be mistaken for a natural phenomenon - if you weren't familiar with local geology. The smudge on the scans had been a small heat signature from the panels warmed by the sun.

"Power?" McQueen asked.

"How much do you want?" Ewan asked in return, opening a panel and throwing a few more switches. The entire interior of the building was illuminated.

"Independent?" 

"Not right now, but that's no problem."

"Right answer," McQueen said and began to walk around the space. He estimated that it was - give or take - about six hundred square meters. The place went further back into the hill than he had originally thought. It opened up - became larger as you moved away from the front. He noticed that here and there along the floor and the walls there were pipes. Plumbing had been roughed in. There were some skylights covered with snow.

"Water?" McQueen asked.

"Connor dug an independent well. There is a holding tank for.... What is it Dad? A thousand gallons?"

Frank nodded in the affirmative. McQueen grinned. This place was the Holy Grail and the family apparently had never considered it.

"Purpose?" the Colonel asked Ewan.

"Dwelling." Ewan said, unconsciously falling into McQueen's speech pattern. "Or storage. Connor's original idea was a bachelor pad, then he got married and it was going to be the honeymoon house, but by the time he built it Karin was born and he wanted to give her a room with a view. One of us will take it over someday."

"I thought I might retire over here," said Frank.

McQueen spent another ten minutes looking the place over. He gestured Frank to his side. "This is impressive. I can tell you this: There are Brass in the Seabees and Army Corps of Engineers who would mess their pants to get a hold of Connor." McQueen could tell that his admission upset Frank - scared him_. "Of Course, no man really likes to think of his children going off to war. No sane man." _"Look, if Connor's number comes up in the draft tell him to stay out of the Navy - much as I'd like to have him around to take care of business - but the Seabees are front line - worse even than the Army Corps of Engineers which isn't a picnic."

"What about space construction?" Frank whispered urgently. The two men were on the same page: How to keep another Celina sibling safe.

McQueen paused for a moment. He looked over at Kylen who was talking to Connor's twin, Ewan, who had a farm deferment. She was standing over by the glass wall. It registered to McQueen that she had probably had her fill of living underground, but some things couldn't be helped. McQueen then became aware that for the first time he was trying to keep an extraordinary talent - Connor - out of the military. It was a strange and conflicting emotion. Then he considered Frank's question.

"No. No, too obvious a target." He looked straight into Frank's face. It seemed clear that the older man didn't quite get the picture. "I'd do it," he confessed. "Knock out your enemies ability to build and service space vehicles? I'd do it in a heartbeat. Tell Connor to stay in the civil sector - to volunteer if he has to."

Frank was forced to look away. It wasn't in horror over McQueen's admission. Not at all. It was, in fact, the realization that to protect his children he would do exactly what McQueen had suggested. He finally looked back at the Marine. " I understand, Ty," he said using the younger man's given name for the first time. This was, in Frank's estimation, a first name conversation. "This is a dreadful thing. "I just want to keep as many of them safe for as long as I can," Frank Celina confessed.

"I know. That's why we are out here freezing our butts off. Look, Mr. Celina - Frank, in a war the first casualty is the truth and the second thing that fails are 'best laid plans.' A plan may fail, but if you have a plan - you have knowingly or unknowingly already formulated a backup. If you don't have a plan - you are doomed to failure. You have had to see that in Kylen. You have had to see her always reading things - weighing her options - outlining plans and options. She survived."

"Then lets go get warm and make some plans," Frank said.

McQueen crossed the space and turned off the power signaling it was time to go. 

***********************

The four spent the rest of the morning at Ewan's discussing how best to turn The Dream into the family shelter. What to finish inside of the structure. When and how to tell the younger children. What to store there. Ways in which the blurred heat signature could be better camouflaged. After the initial horror of the whole idea had been passed the Celinas all bent to the task. McQueen enjoyed working with "problem solvers" and with Frank, leading by example - here was a family full of them it seemed.

McQueen had a flash - what seemed to him to be a good and workable idea. He opened his mouth, began to speak and then halted abruptly. _"I don't know if they are ready for this - if they can handle this,"_ he thought.

"What?" the three Celinas asked together. Their unison of thought and speech momentarily stunned the Marine.

"It was just an idea," he said softly, filling in the silence while the others waited.

"Put it on the table, Ty," Frank insisted.

"It's sort of.... Unpleasant," McQueen admitted.

"None of this is pleasant," Frank responded gently, encouraging the man to continue.

"Well, every year you must have ... a certain number ... of losses ... among the livestock, I mean," McQueen said quietly.

"A few," Frank replied.

"We need to keep the carcasses and start to bury them ... There," Kylen said, stabbing the map with emphasis. She was pointing to The Dream. McQueen exhaled. Kylen was on the same page and more importantly agreed with him.

"Dad, the Chigs hate dead things. They seem to be frightened by them. I know for sure that they do almost anything to avoid graves and dead things. On Tellus, I hid in a burial cave for several days. A shallow scan would show the bones. It's a great idea." She reached out without looking and patted McQueen on his arm. 

It had come out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She hadn't even realized that she had said it. Living in the burial chamber was something she had never told her family before. Ewan and Frank looked shocked and openly uncomfortable, but Kylen was on a roll and hadn't looked up from the map.

"We could plant an orchard in the area. It will cut down on solar efficiency, but if we kept the trees on the south side it could help the heat signature from the panels. I'll have to compute the shadow lines," she said.

Frank stepped away from the table and sat heavily in a chair. "I had no idea," he muttered. Kylen seemed to wake up and realize exactly what she had said.

Kylen moved to sit on the floor in front of her father, looking up into his stricken face. "Dad, I'm OK. It worked. It kept me safe. Colonel McQueen is right. This can be another line of defense. He isn't suggesting that we slaughter the animals, Dad, just were they should be buried."

Ewan whispered from his place at the table: "Allston's birds."

Kylen and McQueen looked at him questioningly.

Ewan gestured around him. "Obviously, Colonel, we grew up on a farm - grew up with life and death all around us. We have all always known that things die. I don't think that any of us ever had to be told about death any more than we had to be told that animals give birth. When we had pets that died - well, that was hard, but also a necessary learning process. Things you love will one day die. But ... well ... after Tellus, Allston seemed.... Well, he had a real hard time with it, Kylen. We didn't know how hard until that summer. I noticed it first. There was an area in the yard - a little circle where the grass was higher. I didn't think too much about it at first, but after a couple of days I went over and took a look. There was a dead robin on the lawn. Birds die. We all know this and occasionally you find one on the lawn. Allston had mowed around it. He couldn't bring himself to get a shovel and bury it." 

"Ohhhhh," Kylen groaned. "Dad, what did you do?"

Disaster had touched Frank's carefully crafted family - his life's work. The strain of the two opposing stories was evident on his face. One of his children had survived by living among the dead and another had survived by rejecting death altogether. Both concepts seemed unnatural and off center.

"We worked it through as you did," he said. "And we will work this through as well. No, you are right the idea has merit. If we explain it well, Allston will get it." 

McQueen spoke softly. "This life and death thing ... Allston seems to love it here - to love the cattle. Well, they provide food and a way of life that he loves. By doing this thing those beautiful strong animals I saw this morning could continue to serve a purpose. Not only for you, but because you are protected the rest of the herd stands a better chance."

Frank looked up into Colonel McQueen's face. "You are terrifically patient with us. You are a good ... a good and a generous man, T.C. McQueen," he said calmly. 

**********************

The group returned to their work. At noon they broke for lunch. The cover story for the younger kids was that they had spent the morning showing McQueen the farm, which was close to the truth. McQueen took a moment to check his e-mail - looking for orders - his new assignment. He hadn't received a new billet - evidently no one in the Marine Corps had decided what to do with him yet - but there were orders.

Marine Barracks

Eighth and I

Washington, DC. 01 Jan 2065

Electronic Orders

To Colonel Tyrus C. McQueen, 821-36-97440, USMC

1. You are ordered to report to Marine Corps Barracks Eighth and I, Washington D.C. Report 0700, 08Jan 2065. Quarters reserved at BOQ, Henderson Hall, Arlington, VA.

2. You will proceed by government and/or civilian transportation via USMC Barracks Loxley, Alabama, with Priority AAAAA authorized by TWX H.Q. USMC dated 01 Jan. 2065, Subject "Movement of McQueen, Col. T.C." to final destination.

3. Prescribed uniform of the day 08 Jan 2065: Dress "A" uniform preferred (sword and medals). Due to exigencies of war Dress "B" acceptable. 

4. Prescribed uniform evening 09 Jan 2065: Evening dress preferred. Due to exigencies of war Dress "A" or "B" acceptable.

By Direction:

Becca A. Green

Lieutenant General, USMC

McQueen handed the orders to Kylen in disgust.

"But you were just down at Loxley. You have to go back there?" she asked.

"I've been ordered to report to DC. with all my party clothes. I've got to go to Loxley to get them out of storage. At least the general - or someone on her staff - has that much together," he spoke with sarcasm.

"Who is General Green?"

"She is Deputy Chief of Staff, Aviation."

"Your boss?" 

"My boss', boss' boss," McQueen said.

Kylen noted that his voice was tinged with admiration_. "She must really be something else - to evoke that tone of voice," _she thought and the asked: "What is this about?" 

"Who knows? The Brass has its own ideas. The Corps will tell me when it wants me to know," he said with resignation. 

"But Colonel, you are the 'Brass' now," she said, mildly amused.

End chapter eight


End file.
